


Against Hope

by valathe



Series: r/Pharmercy prompts [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Boatloads of angst, F/F, Prompt Fill, i'm serious don't read this unless you're some kind of masochist, not posting more tags because spoilers, once again read at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valathe/pseuds/valathe
Summary: In which Angela and Fareeha have to deal with the most devastating loss.Prompt fill for the third weekly prompt from r/Pharmercy





	

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: go and listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpvQrnoWTwM). go ahead, i'll wait.  
> finished? good. now, take that thing you feel after listening to this song, and apply it to this fic. i wasn't lying in the tags, this is _**angst central**_. proceed at your own risk.

Despite being an almost textbook example of a career soldier, Fareeha had never been a great early riser. If there wasn't an emergency at hand she loved nothing more than just dozing the morning away, lazily turning this way and that every now and again. Draping her arm across Angela, snuggling her back and inhaling the fragrance of her hair; even enjoying the morning breath. And lately, she had adopted a new daily ritual. Running her hand over the slowly but steadily growing bump on her girlfriend's stomach, silently marveling at this incredible miracle she was witnessing.

This was one such morning. The sun was bleeding in through the blinds, and Fareeha's arm almost developed a life of its own, forcing her to turn around. It was a well-developed routine by now, the very first brush of skin against skin would be her hand brushing up under Angela's shirt, slowly going all around the bump, a little 'good morning to you' to their little peanut. It would stay there a while, and depending on Angela's mood, sometimes be directed lower and lower still. Those were the best mornings, where basically nothing got done until long after noon. Well, some _one_ got done.

Such thoughts occupying her mind Fareeha set about seeing what route their daily ritual would take, but was quickly stumped when her hand found nothing but empty space. Upon groping around the other side of the bed fruitlessly she blearily opened her eyes, and discovered she was alone. Even more befuddling, the pillows and sheets on Angela's side were cold, looked barely touched. Fareeha was about to call out when the memories collapsed on her.

_They'd been out, going for a walk at a leisurely pace. Spring was slowly turning into summer, and even though they were quite high up in the Swiss Alps, Angela had assured her that they should treasure these mild days before June and July would send their heat waves. They'd been holding hands, tossing around baby names. They'd known it was an exercise in futility, Angela was just now entering the stage where an ultrasound could reveal the gender. And until they knew they'd go through a million different names and discard them for a million different reasons. And yet, it had been a fun exercise. Fareeha had hated to admit it, but this was something she'd been secretly, subconsciously, longing for. Finding love, founding a family, being all mushy and stereotypical. For the first time in her life she felt truly happy, in every sense of the word._

If only the memory would stop there. But it barreled on, leaving nothing but mayhem in its wake. It had all turned hazy by now, but she still remembered those moments with crystal clarity. Angela suddenly doubling over with a pained yelp, hands clutching her stomach. The immediate dread that threatened to slowly suffocate her. The acute panic when Angela's terrified eyes told her more than words ever could. The mad dash to reach an ER, trying to keep from flying apart at the seams for just a while longer. Mumbling soothing words into Angela's ear that she herself desperately wanted to be true.

The waiting.

The endless waiting, pacing, silently raging at every higher power that might have been out there.

The way her world had shattered into a million tiny pieces when the doctor entered the waiting room, scrubs still bloody, and slowly shook his head. How she hated herself for feeling relieved that she'd lost _just_ the baby. She knew she couldn't have handled losing both the baby and Angela.

As it was, she wasn't sure if she could handle _just_ this loss anyway.

It had been their first night back from the hospital. She didn't want to say _back at home_ , because the small cottage in a suburb of Zürich didn't feel like home at all anymore.

She sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes tiredly; and was suddenly crushed with guilt and shame. She had slept like a rock, all through the night, while Angela had silently suffered. She slowly got up and left the bedroom, doing her best to ignore the first door on the right. She failed.

Her gaze was magically drawn to the rocking chair standing in the middle of the room. It was an ancient thing, made of actual, solid wood; probably older than Angela and her _and_ her mother combined. And she remembered. Another daily ritual. Her standing in the door, watching quietly and with a dopey smile as Angela slowly rocked back and forth, back and forth. Holding her bump, reading children's books out loud, singing or humming lullabies. It had been so fulfilling, so... _domestic_. And it was gone forever.

She tore herself away from the door, tried to block out the tiny crib still unassembled in a corner, the stuffed animals, the bright, cheery yellow wallpaper...she couldn't cry right now. She needed to be strong for Angela.

And so she went on, down the stairs, and finally found her girlfriend sitting on the couch, facing the large window and patio door. The sun was throwing its bright rays through the glass, lighting up frazzled blonde hair, making it look like a distorted, lopsided halo.

She slowly approached, mindful not to startle Angela who was sitting still as a stone. She rounded the corner of the couch and stepped between Angela and the window, but the blonde didn't even seem to register. Her vacant stare into nothingness continued, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She looked as miserable as Fareeha felt, sitting there in the dull gray sweatpants and too large hoodie, chin resting on the knees drawn to her chest.

She sat down gently next to her, and laid a hand on Angela's arm. The touch seemed to rouse her, and she blinked rapidly a few times, seemingly only now registering where she was. Who was with her. Who _wasn't_.

“'reeha.” she croaked, giving a jerk that seemed like she wanted to get closer and farther away at the same time. Never before had she seen Angela like this, and in this moment she knew that the woman had lost something, something essential to her very being.

She didn't move, neither closer nor farther away, leaving that decision up to Angela. After a seemingly endless moment of deliberation, the blonde slowly leaned forward, unscrewing herself from her uncomfortable posture to lean against her girlfriend, wrapping her hands around Fareeha's torso and pressing her head into her chest.

Fareeha knew she'd started crying again even before she felt the wetness seep through her pyjama. She said nothing and merely tightened her hold around Angela, pressing soft kisses against her hair and trying to give whatever strength she had left as the sobs wracked through Angela's tiny frame.

“I'm so sorry.” Angela choked out after a while. Fareeha had already drawn her breath to object, but Angela continued talking.

“I'm sorry I'm such a failure. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'm sorry for...I'm...I couldn't...”

She trailed off, sobs constricting her throat, cutting off any sound but her low, keening wails.

“I've saved thousands of lives,” she forced out, “but couldn't save the one that truly mattered.”

Fareeha didn't know what to say. There was nothing she _could_ say. Words were insufficient to convey the emotions that went through her mind, to let Angela truly _know_ that she wasn't to blame. So she settled for the only thing she could do right now, and raised Angela's head enough to press a long, desperate kiss to her trembling, tear-stained lips.

“I've got you.” she whispered after they broke apart, gazing into Angela's eyes with a conviction she didn't feel, “We're okay, _habibti_. I've got you.”

She carefully shuffled herself and Angela so she was lying on her back, legs entangled and Angela's head on her chest. The blonde slowly drifted off, and only now did Fareeha allow her tears to flow, still and silent and oh so desperate. She prayed to whomever would hear her, asked for strength, for hope, to make It through. Because she knew she needed a miracle. _They_ needed a miracle.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I warned you. I warned you so many times. What's wrong with me?  
> Anyway. Song of the day is, you guessed it, [powders](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpvQrnoWTwM) by wreck and reference. The emotions it evokes fit so well with this piece it's uncanny (actually, many of the pieces i've written lately. What does that say about me?)  
> Eat a cookie. Hug someone. Get yourself a dose of serotonin and endorphins.  
> cheers


End file.
